by Sara Evans
Jade’s stomach contracted as her emotions deflated, like the night Paps was lowered into the ground. Batting away the sting of tears, she jumped off the bed. “I want Daddy.”
Just as she reached the door, Mama stepped in, clicking on the dresser lamp. “Are you two all right?”
“Is he going to jail, Mama?” Aiden asked, scooting to the edge of his bed.
“For now.”
Daddy stood in the door. “How’s everything in here?”
“Daddy.” Jade jumped into his arms, clinging to his neck, inhaling the starched fragrance of his shirt. “I prayed for you, like Paps taught me.”
“Did you now?” Daddy wrapped her tight. “You know I can take care of myself, Jade-o. Especially when I buy a gun—”
“Harlan.” Mama sighed. “You’re not getting a gun.”
“It’s not 1967 anymore, Beryl.”
“No, it’s 1988, and the world is even more dangerous. But I’m still a pacifist.” Mama helped Aiden under his sheet. “Go to sleep now, if you can.”
“Then you face Todd Barlow’s shotgun next time.” Daddy carried Jade to her room. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, settling her on her pillows. “I’m here.”
“I heard him crying.”
“Forget about him, baby.” Daddy straightened her nightgown, then kissed her cheek. “He should’ve thought about his actions before he got liquored up and drove over here with a loaded gun.”
“Are you going to get one? Really?”
“Is this fun bedtime talk?” Daddy tickled her ribs. Jade giggled and squirmed, kicking away her sheet. “Now, you go to sleep. In the morning, I’ll get up and make my famous waffles.”
Jade tightened her expression. “Daddy, you never make waffles.”
“There’s always a first time.”
She rolled over on her side, curling her legs. “Night, Daddy.”
“Night, Jade-o.” He powered her fan up a notch on his way out, clicking her door shut behind him.
Even with her door closed and the fan humming, she could hear the roar of Mama and Daddy fighting.
“He could’ve killed your daughter and son. Killed, Harlan.”
“You think this is my fault? Beryl, the man is in charge of his own actions. Tough times don’t change men’s hearts; they only reveal them.”
“Do you see what you’re doing? You’re becoming one of them.”
“Them who? People who want to build a future? Earn a good living for their families? Send their kids to college? Live by the integrity of their word? Beryl, he put up his stock and inventory, then sold it out from under the bank.”
“I know what he did, Harlan. I’m not stupid. You could’ve found a better way.”
“Like what? Payments? Todd blew that option.”
“It’s the money, isn’t it? The bank has deeper pockets so you sided with them.”
“The bank was my client. And I would’ve sided with Todd if he’d had a case, if he were right.”
“How much, Harlan?” Mama’s tone was the one Jade hated. It meant trouble.
“How much what?”
“How much is the bonus for winning this one? The money you’re starting to make is near obscene.”
“Me? What happened to ‘we,’ Beryl? And this wasn’t about the money, but about my client’s rights.”
“A bank? Rights? I never thought I’d hear you side against the working man. Makes me sad. You’ve lost yourself, Harlan. It’s evil what you’re doing. Money has made you blind and stupid.”
Jade’s door creaked open, and Aiden crawled into bed next to her. “They’re fighting like two toms.”
“Do you think Daddy’s evil?” Evil was one word Mama used that Jade understood. “Mama called him Hitler the other day.”
“He’s not a Hitler. Paps said that Hitler was the devil himself in the flesh.”
There was a crash and Jade ducked under the sheet, gripping her medallion and whispering to Jesus, the God and friend of Paps.
Max’s cell rang, interrupting Jade’s story. She collapsed against the banister spindles.
“Jade, sorry, I need to answer this.” Max held up his iPhone, brushing his hand down her arm. “It’s the third time he’s called.”
“Take it, please.” She needed a minute to reset her boundaries, to get away from the story, away from the aching tenor of Barlow’s sob and the slice of Mama’s anger tearing down Daddy’s argument.
Letting go of the lie was freeing; reliving the reasons why, draining.
Max wandered from the foyer into the great room, his footsteps bouncing against the high, sculptured ceiling. Jade rose from the stairs, her hip cramping from the hard surface.
Walking into the great room, she gazed through the jib windows into the front yard. It was overgrown and needed weeding. Like her. But she was glad to whack at some of her secrets today. Max needed to know about Daddy. In letting go, she’d cut a shackle.
“Sorry, babe, work . . .” Max touched her shoulder.
“I was thinking we should hire a landscaper.” Jade faced him as she settled against the window frame.
Max peered beyond her to see the yard. “I’ll call Doug Hogan tomorrow. He did Dad and Mom’s garden.” Then he settled next to Jade. “So what happened after that night?”
Jade sighed. “Barlow went to jail . . . for a long time. Two months after his arrest, Mama and Daddy were fighting. The tension was like cold peanut butter, even to an eight-year-old. Aiden and I tiptoed around the house, hiding, trying not to upset Mama or Daddy.”
Prairie City, August 1988
Jade dropped her bike by the back porch, her stomach growling, cocking her ear to the door, listening. Daddy’s new Porsche sat in the curved driveway, and it wasn’t even dinnertime yet. Jade feared she’d walk into an explosion between him and Mama.
While the fighting had become more familiar than frightening, she still never felt safe.
“Jade-o.” Eclipse waved from his army-green tent. “How’s school?”
“Good.” Jade waved, wishing he’d go away.
He and Carlisle, Paul, and some bony girl named Sabrina had driven in during the night a few days ago and set up tents while they slept. Boy, Daddy was ticked when he woke up the next morning.
“Just remember, tune in, turn on, and drop out.” Eclipse grinned, giving Jade the peace sign.
Jade jerked open the screen door. She never knew what he was talking about. Mm, the kitchen smelled good, like cinnamon. Did Mama make cookies? Sniffing, Jade trotted across the uneven linoleum to the counter. But it was clean and cleared.
Her head jerked up when Mama’s light footsteps moved across the upstairs. Daddy’s longer, heavier steps followed.
“. . . It’s an incredible opportunity, Beryl.”
Jade curled up on the sofa, covering herself with the throw pillows. Shoot.
“Oh, really? For who? You? What am I going to do in Washington, D.C., among all those lying politicians and their fake wives? Or their mistresses pretending to be wives.” Mama slammed a drawer shut. “And once again, you made a major decision without consulting me, Harlan. Like that ridiculous car.”
“I see. It’s fine for you to make decisions without consulting me, but—”
“What decisions?”
“Um, like having kids.”
Mama’s laugh was sharp and not funny. “Having kids. You were the one who—”
“Said the world was too troubled to bring more children into it, and you agreed. No babies. I wanted a career and you wanted to farm, or go back to school, whatever you felt like doing. It was going to be just the two of us.”
Jade gasped, trembling. Mama and Daddy didn’t want them?
“Yes, and I told you I wanted to do a physical cleanse and was going off the pill. You agreed to be responsible for birth control.”
“So it’s my fault?” Daddy’s footsteps hammered above the ceiling. Jade covered her ears to block out their voices, curling on her side. Oh, her tummy ached.
“It happened on your watch. Both times. Draw your own conclusions.”
Daddy growled, “Fine, whatever, but here we are with two kids, Beryl, and I’m doing my best to give them a future, a chance at a good education, or are you suddenly against that too?”
“No, but I’m sure as heck not moving to Washington, D.C.”
Jade snatched up the remote and powered on the TV as a creeping chill worked its way over her skin, freezing her brain. She stared at the TV until the edges of the big box blurred.
“What now?” Aiden appeared and plopped onto the couch next to her, his camera dangling from a strap around his neck.
Jade focused on him. “I thought you were spending the night with Sticks.”
He shrugged, peering up at the ceiling. “Changed my mind.”
She understood what he felt without words. The Fitzgerald household was about to change.
“I don’t want to move to Washington,” she said.
Aiden put the camera to his face and pointed it at Jade. “I’m going to stay here and live with Granny and Paps.”
The argument upstairs got louder. Bigger. “Get off your high horse, Beryl. You knew I wanted this job with Mitchell & Peterson. You ironed my shirt while I packed.”
“I didn’t think you’d say yes without talking to me.”
Click.
Jade shoved Aiden with her foot. “Don’t take my picture. Does Dad know you have his camera?”
“He don’t use it.”
“I’m walking into Mitchell & Peterson a partner. Next year it’ll be Mitchell, Peterson & Fitzgerald. Beryl, this is a great move for us, for Aiden and Jade. Not to mention getting inside the system where we can effect real change. Not just protests and sit-ins.”
Jade glanced at Aiden. “What do they want to change?”
“Mama says the world. Daddy says himself.” He fiddled with the film winder. Clicking it over and over.
Mama’s footsteps landed hard against the stairs. She’s coming down. Aiden and Jade scrambled off the couch and out the front door. To make herself move fast, Jade pretended Mama was the Wicked Witch of the West.
Aiden ran off the porch, gripping the camera. But Jade froze, flattening her back against the boards of the house beside the window.
“This move is about your career and prestige, Harlan. So you just go on to Washington, live your life, leave me stuck here with the kids . . . Forget about what I want out of life.”
Jade squeezed her eyes shut. If she were a bird, she’d fly away.
“Ah, here we go. Back to the women’s rights speech. You pull this out every time something doesn’t go your way. Well, Beryl, wake up, it’s 1988. If you want to do something with your life besides minding kids and cleaning house, get out there and do it. Who’s stopping you?”
The muscles in Jade’s jaw tightened until her temples throbbed. Fly away . . . But she couldn’t move.
“How can I do anything for myself if I’m following you around?” Something thumped. A chair or table? “Get out, Harlan. Just get out.”
“You’re not even going to consider Washington? You spent most of your twenties protesting on the Washington Mall. Now you have a chance to get inside, and you refuse.”
“You have the chance to get inside. Not me. If you want to go, go. Take the kids with you, and I’ll make my own next big move in life.”
“I can’t take Aiden and Jade to Washington if you don’t come.”
“And if you leave? What will I do with them? Leave them here by themselves so I can get a job—”
“Would you stop all this, Beryl? You’re being stubborn for stubborn’s sake. Just come with me. Then neither one of us is stuck with the kids.”
Trembling, Jade gazed over the darkening landscape, salty tears running under her nose, gathering around the corners of her lips.
The front door jerked open and Jade fired off the porch, running toward the cornfield, raising her arms to her sides. She was flying, flying away.
“Wow, he actually said he didn’t want kids?” Max found a movers blanket in the foyer closet and had spread it out on the great room floor. He propped the flashlight against the stone fireplace, the yellow beam glowing against the vaulted ceiling like a paper moon.
If she thought too much on it, Jade created a kettle of anxiety in her heart and mind. Thinking about it now made her want to run away, like she did that evening.
“How can you not want your own kid?” Max reclined on his side with his head propped in his hand.
Jade winced. “How many family law cases does your firm take every year, Max? Come on, it happens every day. People are selfish, whether they mean to be or not.”
Max smoothed his hand over her hair, then cupped her head, drawing her to him for a kiss. “I’m sorry, Jade. I can see why you said your dad was dead.”
“Doesn’t make it right. As far as I know, he’s a good man.”
Max fell back on his elbows, stretching his legs the length of the blanket. “How can he be good? He abandoned you.”
The dull ache in Jade’s soul throbbed. “I like to think he didn’t mean it. There’s this father in my memory who loved me and cared for me. One time, he found me when I was scared and lost.”
“Yeah.” Max tapped her leg gently with his toe. “Go on, little bird, how’d he find you?”
Fifteen
Prairie City, August 1988
The sharp leaves of the August cornstalks sliced at Jade’s arms as she pushed deeper into the field.
Stuck with . . . kids . . . Didn’t want babies. Go, go. Take the kids and go.
Running, running, running so hard she couldn’t breathe, Jade aimed for the heart-shaped clump of trees on the edge of the field.
Aiden, where are you?
Catching her toes on a root or vine, she stumbled forward, arms flailing as she pounded to the hard, dry dirt. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. Birds don’t cry; they fly.
Jade hopped up, ignoring the warm trickle of blood down her calf. In a minute, just a minute, she’d break into the open and fresh air around the trees.
She hunched down and ran, the heat among the cornrows stifling. Where were the trees?
Fear blipped over her skin along with the trickles of sweat. Someone moved the trees or she’d be able to see them by now. Aiden, which way to the trees? Slowing her pace, Jade twisted around to see if she could see the trees or the gabled tip of home. But all she could see was golden silky tips of corn. Rows and rows of corn.
“Aiden!” Her scream rose to the tips of the corn, then fell back to her chest, barely disturbing the still air around her.
Cutting to the left, Jade hunched down, trying to run under the tall stalks, but the leaves slapped against her face. When she felt she’d run far enough without breaking into the tree stand, she cut to the right and continued to run.
Sweat stung her eyes. Her shirt stuck to her skin. When she stopped to breathe, Jade collapsed to the ground, whispering, “Daddy . . . Daddy.”
Did he see her when he came out the door? Because she wasn’t really flying, only running.
Boon-Doggle, Aiden and Stick’s friend, once glared at Jade with his yellowish eyes and hissed, “If you miss the patch of grass leading to the tree stand, you’re as good as a goner. Won’t come out of the corn until harvest time.” His vicious laugh resurrected in her soul and chased her fears through her mind down to her heart.
“Daddy.”
A shadow fluttered across the corn, blocking the sun. Jade tipped back her head to see a throng of birds riding the current. Big ones, little ones, soaring and looping over the field.
“Birds, I’m down here. I’m down here.” Jade jumped and waved, her words drifting to the top of the corn and down again. “Tell Daddy, please. No, Aiden. Tell Aiden.”
One or two, she couldn’t tell really, flew away, she was sure of it, leaving the rest to watch over her. Jade plopped to the hard ground, the sweat gelling on her arms. Her pulse no longer drummed in h
er ears.
It was dark when she woke up, shivering. The hot afternoon had faded to cold. Aiden hadn’t come. Or Daddy. Sitting up, pulling her knees to her chest, Jade searched the moonlight for signs of her winged friends.
They were gone. She was alone. Panic pulled her to her feet as a bucket of tears splashed her face. “Aiden.”
Didn’t they miss her at supper? Who set the table? It was her turn this week. Daddy and Mama were probably glad she was gone. What if Daddy already moved to Washington, and Mama got a job? Did they leave her behind?
“Daddy, don’t go, please.” Jade stepped forward, shoving the cornstalks aside, seeing nothing in the dark. Her feet felt like bricks, too heavy to lift. Sinking to the ground, she dropped her forehead to the dirt, her tears forming rivers in the cracked, dry soil.
A fluttering sound batted the air above the field, followed by a twittering song. Granny said it was the melody of the nightingale. Lifting her head, she listened closely before whispering, “Bird, did you tell them about me?”
Wings beat the air. Following the rhythm, Jade caught the silhouette of a small bird in the wispy light as it lifted from the stalks right over her head.
A sharp call sounded on the edge of the silence. It sounded like her name. Jade jumped up. “Aiden? Daddy?” She strained to hear. There it was again. And the faint snap-clap of a screen door followed by a shout.
A rumbling motor disturbed the still night air.
“Daaaddeee!” Jade pressed the call from her lungs until she ran out of air. She inhaled deep and let go again. “Daaaddeeee!”
A hound bayed.
“Daaaddeeee!”
The corn rattled and shimmied, then a wet nose tapped Jade’s leg. “Snoops, old Snoops, you found me.” She dropped to her knees and crushed her cheek against his saggy, furry neck.
Dropping his rump to the ground, Snoops lifted his nose and bayed, long and loud. Jade’s deep Daddy-shouts accompanied him, arching over the field. Bright lights snapped on and washed the corn with pure white beams.
Snoops sounded his alarm twice more, then settled at Jade’s feet. She stood stock still, waiting, listening to the rustling corn leaves.
“Jade? Baby?”